


Mark the Date

by oxiosa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Latin Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: Español
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxiosa/pseuds/oxiosa
Summary: The morning passes by uneventfully boring, one hour after the other meshing painfully slow. Luciano texts Martín mid morning, wishes him a good day and asks what he would like for dinner tonight. Martín doesn’t read the message until a couple of hours later, and doesn’t answer back. Luciano doesn’t take it to heart, for he has had his busy days as well and that Luciano is bored and free today doesn’t mean so is Martin, but he is surprised when lunch time arrives and Martín still hasn’t answered back.
Relationships: Argentina/Brazil (Hetalia)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	Mark the Date

**Author's Note:**

> Characters belong to the community Latin Hetalia and their respective creators ♥
> 
> Argentina: Martín Hernández.  
> Brazil: Luciano Da Silva.  
> Uruguay: Sebastián Artigas.

Luciano wakes up with the vague impression of being watched. He opens his eyes slowly, blinks a couple of times as his pupils get used to the dim light that manages to slip through the blinds. It takes him a few seconds to focus to make out the precise shape of the white large mass edging barely centimetres away from his face.

Rocco stares at him with small brown eyes, gives him a wide canine grin and starts wagging his tail when he notices Luciano squinting back at him, finally awake. He closes the space between them and licks Luciano’s face, and Luciano grunts and shoves his large head away.

“Every damn mornin’, Rocco...” he mumbles under his breath.

He sits up, ignores Rocco as he rests his head on his thigh, and picks up his phone to check the time. Fifteen minutes before his alarm - Rocco might as well  _ be _ his alarm clock at this rate, he thinks as he lets out a big yawn he doesn’t bother to hide behind a hand.

Martín sleeps quietly on the other side of the bed. He doesn’t stirr when Luciano combs his blond hair out of his face, but does let one content sigh through his nose when Luciano presses a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Mornin’ to you too,” Luciano whispers, and the only response he gets from Martín is a soft hum.

He won’t get much from him this early in the morning, so Luciano smiles down at him and leaves bed. While Rocco patiently waits for him, Luciano steps into a shirt and some sweatpants, picks the first pair he lays his hands on.

“Come on, boy,” Luciano calls as he motions Rocco out of the room.

Rocco obediently steps out, and Luciano follows him into the living room,, half-closing the bedroom door to give Martín something akin to peace while Luciano starts his days.

Sweet Emma is waiting for him asleep on the couch, a little ball of dark fur that has started to go mostly grey. Unlike youngster Rocco, she is an elderly lady who’s still asleep and whom Luciano has to wake up. He kneels in front of her and gently pets her tiny head, and she raises her blind clouded eyes at him out of costume, failing to see anything at all.

“Good morning, sweet princess,” he coos at her with a smile. “Gonna go for a walk?”

At his side, Rocco lets out a low excited woof and Emma’s tail starts wagging.

Luciano takes both dogs out for a quick 15 minute walk, mostly so they don’t make a mess in the apartment while Martín and him are out for the day. It is a beautiful morning with blue clear skies and a soft cool summer breeze, but he doesn’t have the luxury to spend much time enjoying the outside. After both dogs have done their business, he heads back home, has to pick light Emma up and carry her all the way back - she tires easily, and Luciano doesn’t really have the time to wait for her.

Martín is still dead to the world when Luciano and the dogs return from their walk, but that is no surprise - he won’t join the living any time soon as far as Luciano is concerned. While Luciano usually makes the most out of his morning before work, every extra second Martín can remain in bed goes unwasted for him. He gets out of bed with barely the right amount of time to take a piss, brush his teeth, change into his work clothes, and take a coffee to go. 

Emma sets back to her usual place on the couch to take a nap after her extraneous morning walk, but Rocco follows Luciano as he heads from the bathroom.

“Why don’t you go bother your father?” Luciano pets his head absently.

Clever Rocco beams up at him and rushes out of the bathroom. Luciano can hear his nails clicking against the hard floor as he rushes to the bedroom, hears the dry thumb of Rocco’s landing on the mattress and Martín’s quiet sleepy cursing. Luciano chuckles to himself, closes the bathroom door and takes a quick shower. When he steps into the bedroom in his towel to fetch his work clothes, he can only smile at the picture of Martín’s  _ still  _ sleeping form with an arm thrown over Rocco’s bulky body. Luciano chuckles and shakes his head, and steps into his work clothes.

He leaves the room and the cuddling pair, and prepares a quick breakfast he doesn’t bother to sit down to enjoy as he eyes the clock on the microwave - he really should be hurrying up if he doesn’t want to be late to work. He gulps down his coffee and leaves a cup ready on the pot for when Martín finally resigns to get out of bed.

He brushes his teeth last, makes sure to pet goodbye Emma - skips Rocco for today, as this morning he has decided to laze around with Martín - and then Luciano is off to work. Martín might have the small privilege of his old battered car (an heirdom from his grandfather he reveres with an adoration Luciano is not sure the antique actually deserves), but Luciano every morning takes the bus to work. Not that he really minds, honestly.

Today he makes it in time. Mostly, at least - he has done far worse, if he has to be honest.

The morning passes by uneventfully boring, one hour after the other meshing painfully slow. Luciano texts Martín mid morning, wishes him a good day and asks what he would like for dinner tonight. Martín doesn’t read the message until a couple of hours later, and doesn’t answer back. Luciano doesn’t take it to heart, for he has had his busy days as well and that Luciano is bored and free today doesn’t mean so is Martin, but he is surprised when lunch time arrives and Martín still hasn’t answered back.

“Maybe he’s busy,” Sebastián shrugs it off.

“During lunch time?”

They sit in the company’s cafeteria, Sebastián nibbling at his lunch while Luciano stares at his phone as if his gaze alone could summon an answer from Martín.

“You know Martín sometimes gets caught up with work,” Sebastián shrugs. His reasoning does little to pacify Luciano. In a poor attempt to change the subject, he asks; “You two got any special plans tonight?”

Luciano looks up from his phone, and frowns at Sebastián.

“No,” he answers quietly. He puts down his phone slowly with a strange sense of alarm. “Why?”

Sebastián’s eyebrow’s raise with surprise.

“You’re not serious,” Sebastián says. When Luciano’s confused frown deepens, Sebastián expands; “Today’s 14th of February. You know, Saint Valentine?”

“We don’t celebrate that here,” Luciano replies quickly, but he can feel dread already building up inside his chest. “We celebrate  _ Dia dos namorados _ in June.”

“And you’re sure Martín hasn’t prepared anything for you?” Sebastián asks with genuine curiosity.

“Martín can’t expect me to-that’s not  _ fair _ ...” Luciano objects a little too hotly.

Luciano hates to admit Sebastián is right. It would be like headstrong Martín to ignore a 200-million-people country’s traditions and do things his way - expects  _ Luciano _ to do things his way too.

“Fuck,” Luciano hisses. He runs a hand through his hair as he pulls his phone out.

“I should have known you’d forget, shouldn’t I?” Sebastián sighs and frowns at himself as if he truly was disappointed in himself.

“Fuck, I’ve got nothing planned,” Luciano grumbles. “Shit, I didn’t wish him a happy lover’s day when I texted him this morning...”

This shreds a new light to Martín’s cold shoulder. Luciano is screwed…

… unless he feigns to pretend to have forgotten and to have planned a surprise for him all along.

There is still hope for Luciano.

“Sebas,” Luciano says with a hopeful glint in his eye. “I’ll need you to distract Martín today after work while I get some stuff.”

“I’m sure he won’t suspect a thing,” Sebastián snorts without any real malice.

“Of course he will,” Luciano replies, and a triumphant smile spreads across his lips. “But that’s the point.”

After all, Luciano needs Martín to think Luciano is working on a surprise and hasn’t completely forgotten about this dumb date.

Sebastián’s eyebrows rise again in surprise. He seems a little impressed with Luciano’s reasoning, which makes him swell a little with pride. It is not everyday that Sebastián finds himself outsmarted after all.

“Fair enough,” Sebastián relents. “I’ll hold Martín off for you.”

He gracefully takes his phone out and starts typing before Luciano’s giddy eyes.

Luciano spends the rest of his working hours between romantic planning and actual work. He leaves work in a rush, feeling like a man with a mission. He has some head start; Martín won’t be leaving work for another two hours, which gives Luciano some head start to develop his plan. With Sebastián’s help holding him off for another hour or two, Luciano should have plenty of time to try to get together a decent date night.

The morning’s blue clear sky is long gone and a threatening grey mass of dark clouds gathers above the city with the promise of a storm. Luciano eyes them with a wary frown; a downpour is the last thing he needs right now, as if things weren’t hard enough already.

He stops first at the market - Luciano is usually the one in charge of dinner, which is another advantage right on to his favour. Knowing Martín, he knows he can’t fail with either steak or pasta. He opts for the latter. Hollywood might be to blame, but pasta seems inherently more romantic.

As we walks down the aisles gathering produce for tonight, he calls his father’s number. If he is going for pasta, he’ll need sauce - and what is better and more romantic than homemade sauce?

“You don’t have my recipe?” his father sounds disapproving.

“I do,” Luciano replies. “But I don’t have it with me right now and I need a run down on the measures of the ingredients, and I know you old man know it by heart.”

“Damn right I do,” his father replies. “As should you. This was my mother’s recipe, and her mother’s. It goes back-”

Luciano really doesn’t have time for this.

“The ingredients, please?” he begs. “I can’t talk at the moment, promise I’ll call you tomorrow.”

His father is not happy to be dismissed and makes sure to let Luciano know he does not appreciate it, but he does list down his famous sauce recipe.

It feels a little like last moment Christmas shopping as Luciano rushes in and out of stores. On the way back home he stops by the bakery and buys some bread, buys chocolates - makes sure to get the dulce de leche filled ones -, and pays a visit to a flower shop. He considers a bouquet, but settles instead for one simple rose; it is cheaper, easier to carry around as he makes his way back home on public transport with the rest of his purchases, and anyways he can use Martín’s allergies as an excuse.

He has a bit of a hard time getting the apartment’s door opening with filled hands, and he almost drops his purchases when Rocco basically tackles him in his welcome.

“Down, boy,” Luciano begs as he balances his bags and the box of chocolates.

Rocco sits down obediently, lets Luciano make his way to the kitchen to put his bags down.

“Ok,” Luciano puts things away quickly, and then turns away. “Who wants a walk?”

Normally, Martín is the one in charge of taking the dogs out in the evening, but Luciano has plans tonight and he needs both Rocco and Emma out of the way. He doesn’t have the time Martín usually takes with them, so instead he takes them out for a shorter walk than they would usually have. Emma doesn’t seem to mind at all, cuddling comfortably against his chest as he carries her, but Rocco is particularly reluctant to head back home just yet.

“Come on, boy,” Luciano urges him. He can’t help to eye the small clock on his phone, and then up to the sky as fat heavy raindrops start falling over their heads and the storm finally catches up. “Wanna see Mrs. García? You remember Mrs. García, right?”

The way Rocco perks up and starts wagging his tail indicates that he does.

Mrs. García is an old lady who lives on the first floor. She is kind and sweet, with a particular soft spot for young couples and all sorts of dogs. It is not often that Luciano and Martín need babysitters for Rocco and Emma, but whenever they do Mrs. García has always been eager to lend a helping hand.

“No problem, darling,” Mrs. García smiles up at Luciano when he stops at her door with Emma and Rocco in tow. “I’ll take good care of these babies, you can count on that. See, when I was a little, my family had…”

Some other day, Luciano might have indulged her and stayed to chat, but today he is running short in time as it is.

“Thank you, Mrs. García!” he shoves both Rocco’s and Emma’s leashes into her bony hands. He waves at her with an apologetic smile as he walks away in long rushed strides. “I’ll pick them up tomorrow morning! Thanks again, bye!”

He knows Mrs. García will spoil them rotten but he can’t bring himself to really care when she will so willingly look after them for free and without notice.

Luciano heads back into his own apartment. He checks the time (Martín must be leaving work by now), and he folds his sleeves up with a determined frown. He focuses on getting the sauce ready first - luckily he can worry about the pasta when Martín arrives, he’ll only need to have some water ready close to a boil.

Once his sauce is cooking in the fire and the kitchen is crystal clean, Luciano decorates the rest of the apartment with the help of some references from the internet. He decides to go for something simple. He doesn’t really have the luxury to pull off anything too elaborated, and it wouldn’t be his style anyways. Low lights, some candles (the ones they are supposed to use in case the power goes off) and some soft music do the trick.

“Not bad for a last minute date, uh,” he decides.

As he is contemplating his work swelling with pride, his phone beeps in his pocket announcing a new message.

_ Lovebird’s heading for the nest. _

Luciano can’t help to roll his eyes with an amused smirk to Sebastián theatrics, but is glad for the warning. With little time on his side, he takes a shower in record time, dresses a little fancier than he would normally have - makes sure to put on that one pair of briefs he knows Martín particularly favors.

Martín arrives 10 minutes later, soaked wet and with a tired long-suffering expression. He appears to be in a particularly foul mood, but freezes in place at the door the moment he sees their apartment’s decoration and Luciano waiting for him with a smile and one single red rose.

“Happy Saint Valentine,” Luciano smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look as awkward as he feels. That’s what he is supposed to say, right?

Martín looks around with wide surprised eyes, closes the door behind him slowly and puts his bag down. Luciano steps closer, offers him the rose and kisses him hello. Martín takes the flower with clumsy hands, barely has time to catch up on Luciano’s kiss out of surprise.

“You...” he seems to be a little loss at words. “Luciano, I…”

“You thought I’d forget,” Luciano dares back smugly.

Martín makes a face, and his surprise slowly turns into something else. He looks mortified, which makes Luciano frown in turn for that was definitely not what he was going for. It makes no sense at all, Martín should be beaming and glowing, unless…

_ Unless... _

“You forgot,” Luciano whispers with realisation.

A deep blush climbs up Martín’s face, and when he doesn’t deny it Luciano lets out a loud gasp and covers his mouth.

“Oh my fucking God, Martín,  _ you forgot _ …”

“You told me you people celebrate it in June!” Martín cries back, flustered like Luciano has seldomly seen him before.

“You  _ forgot _ …”

Luciano can’t believe it. After all the trouble for a dumb date he wasn’t even supposed to be celebrating today...

“You fucking forgot,” he repeats, and burst into laughter, mostly out of disbelief. “I can’t believe you forgot!”

Martín’s embarrassment quickly shifts into humiliation and anger in the face of laughter. He frowns at Luciano, puffs his chest out and tilts his chin up with hurt pride.

“I’d normally have remembered,” he replies, and for some reason he sounds like some sulky child. “It’s just that it’s hard to remember when you guys don’t even celebrate it this month.”

“Right. But you did forget,” Luciano counters, way too smug with this unexpected turn of events.

Martín narrows his eyes at him, and Luciano smiles brighter up at him.

“I’m not living this down, am I?” he mumbles.

“Nope! You’re not!” Luciano beams.

Martín sighs and all his pose deflates as he finds himself defeated. He lets Luciano pulls him down for another kiss, and whispers a weak “Happy Valentine’s Day” against his lips. Luciano chuckles, and pulls back.

“Go take a shower,” he instructs “You’re dropping rainwater all over my floor.”

Martín lets out another tired sigh, but obeys. While he steps into the bathroom, Luciano heads back into the kitchen, turns on the heat and waits for the water to boil. He shakes his head to himself.

Martín is back just as Luciano is placing the pasta in the pot, freshly out of the shower. He has dressed nicely too, according to the occasion. He stands behind Luciano as he stirs the pasta, hugs his waits and kisses his neck. He smells of soap and shampoo and also a little of cologne.

“Emma and Rocco?” Martín asks.

“Left them with Mrs. García.”

Martín kisses his neck, lingers like it is his favorite hiding spot.

“You really were on every detail, uh?”

Luciano can’t take the teasing to heart; not when there is no malice in Martín’s words and he can spot for the corner of his eye a light blush on Martín’s cheeks. It swells his heart with both fondness and pride. 

“You’ll have to top this in June, Tinho,” he sing-songs giddily.

Martín stops kissing his neck. He looks up, and rests his chin on Luciano’s shoulder with slightly narrowed eyes.

“... that’s how it’s going to be, uh,” he mumbles.

Luciano gives him a challenging smile, already feeling like a winner. This could be a new game for them - it is not as if it was completely crazy, coming from the two of them.

He will be looking forward to seeing what Martín comes up with for him some months from now. He leans forward and presses their lips together to seal the deal - for now, will make sure to give Martín’s the most romantic night he has ever experienced.

**Author's Note:**

> Now let's hope I don't foget to do a sequel about Martín's shenanigans on June :D


End file.
